


sunflower seeds

by orphan_account



Category: Mother 3, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss of Parent(s), Nightmares, all of them - Freeform, he deserves them, luCAS GETS HUGS i promise, wow this. seems pretty heavy huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-11-08 11:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20834564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sunflowers bloom at the edges of Claus' smile.





	sunflower seeds

**Author's Note:**

> im back on my mother 3 bullshit!
> 
> anyway some tw if u didnt read the tags: body horror on about seven levels, implications of child neglect and abandonment, grief and loss, the usual works when it comes to mother 3
> 
> edit 251119: made some updates to cohesion, etc. the story should run a lot more smoothly now!

sunflowers bloom at the edges of claus' smile. he looks so happy, sunflower petals decorating his cheeks, loud laughter spilling from his mouth. he's probably told some stupid joke ─ lucas can almost hear him beginning another 'knock knock' ─ because of course he'd laugh so heartily at something like that.

the sunflower petals drip from his eyes too. if lucas squints he thinks he can see seeds at his knuckles and his wrists. "lucas, lucas!" claus shouts eagerly. "come on! you said you'd come and play with me today..."

"coming, coming!" lucas calls back. he pulls himself to his feet and out, and claus beams at him. everything about this feels - familiar, somehow.

smiling softly, lucas lets himself get pulled away by his brother. his reckless, reckless brother.

the cool breeze ruffles their hair as they walk. sunshine forest can seem like a far trek sometimes, but with the cheerful company of his brother, lucas is sure he could walk hundreds and hundreds of miles without being tired. the forest is always warm which is a bonus. "lucas," claus cheers, "what do you want to play today?"

"it's too hot to play!" lucas says. he flops down onto the ground, leaning back against a particularly sturdy tree. sweat drips from his brow. "i think i'm going to melt."

claus pouts. "c'mon, you said we'd play." he offers a hand out to him.

lucas takes it. his brother (his reckless, reckless brother) pulls him to his feet and they run. the freedom tastes like salt in his lungs.

but the forest is on fire. smoke chokes his lungs and lucas can't breathe, he tries to move but the fire is everywhere and he doesn't know what to do. "claus!" he shouts. "claus!" his brother doesn't come. "claus! mom? dad?"

nobody comes. lucas is all alone.

they find a scrap of fabric caught on some dead brush, and a drago fang stabbed through something. they refuse to tell lucas what. he thinks he knows, deep in his heart, but his mind refuses to tell him. his heart doesn't want him to know. it's always been too kind to him.

he finds out anyway. flint howls with grief as he lunges towards the nearest person, his two sons watching wide-eyed and fearful. they take flint away for a night in jail. lucas and claus are left alone, until grandpa alec comes to get them. his heart pounds in his chest.

he's teary-eyed. lucas wonders why, and asks, voice still plaintive and high, "why are you so sad, grandpa alec?" claus frowns, looking nervously at grandpa. everything feels familiar.

"i'm okay, boys," he says but the words ring false. "just worried about your father."

everything feels wrong.

lucas cries for days.

claus doesn't come back.

maybe the two are all too similar.

the sunflowers are gone from the edges of claus' mouth. blood drips from the sewn-together edges where they would have been; instead of his eyes, bright green and familiar, golden brown sunflowers spill out of his eye sockets. lucas thinks he's going to be sick.

this is his brother, with his warm smiles and cheery joy. this is his brother, with the sunflower seeds spilling out from his knuckles. this is not his brother, bloody and empty and cold. this is not his brother, with his warped eyes and empty gaze.

the demon with his brother's face says, "lucas, lucas... let's switch... let's switch places..."

he doesn't want to. he doesn't want to have flowers for eyes or blood in his mouth or perpetual grief clinging to his bones. the grief does not let him go. even now, years after ─ after it ─ the shadows of grief cling to his eyes and weigh heavy on his movements.

but if it means claus will be okay, then lucas will switch places.

the demon with his brother's face leans in close, pulling fistfuls of petals from its eyes and mouth. it smears blood over them and sticks the petals to his face. lucas thinks he's going to be sick. "there!" it says in that facsimile version of his brother's voice. "now you're just like me."

he wakes up. there are flower petals strewn on his room's floor. not gold, pink. _with blood? _a voice in the back of his mind asks. it sounds like claus. he blinks, 

lucas breathes, resolutely ignoring the voice, and walks away.

when he knows he's alone, completely alone, he lets himself sink into the pool of anxiety bubbling in his chest. it's steadily rising up and he's barely afloat. his neck feels like it's being grabbed, the abundance of feelings choking him slowly. lucas' breaths come out choked and uneven even as he tries to calm himself down.

_breathe, _he reminds himself, _in and out. _but each breath is shallower than the last and ─ and ─ lucas thinks he's going to pass out. all he can feel is the tide of his anxiety swallowing him whole. the phantom petals on his cheeks stick there like glue.

"you okay?" someone asks, but the words come out murky and unclear. "lucas?"

he reaches out blindly, almost consumed by the panic and fear drowning him. "can i touch you?" they ask and he nods, too quick too quick, the anxiety stirring again.

two hands grip his own, too much all at once. as if sensing the stirring worry they loosen their grip and he breathes slightly easier. sunflowers bloom under his fingernails. he tries to lift a hand up, to bite at the beds until the roots have been plucked out, but the grip stays firm.

"lucas," the voice says, and _oh, _is that snake? "i need you to breathe with me, okay? in," he takes a deep breath, loud enough that he can hear past the blood pumping in his ears. he breathes out deeply, lucas mimicking the motion. his chest shudders. "and out. in, and out." he repeats the motion over and over until his breathing is controlled once more.

"hey, kid, how you feeling?" snake's voice is quiet. not too loud. perfect. lucas relaxes imperceptibly.

"...pretty shit."

snake laughs slightly, "i'm not surprised. do you want to talk about it?"

lucas doesn't. not really. he doesn't want to relive sunflowers in eyes and blood smeared on cheeks, not if he can help it. but if snake wants ─

"you don't have to if you don't want to, kid. but. just so you know, alright? we're all here for you if you want to talk about it."

he doesn't talk about anything but the sunflowers and the blood. sunflowers tainted red, smeared across his cheeks, and the lilting laughter of a child. a _child. _blood, suddenly on his hands and halfway up his arms, and the rising feeling that he can do nothing right.

finding what little reminders of ness there are in new pork city, no matter how little and lifeless they are.

snake listens. he doesn't interrupt him, but that's fine. if lucas was interrupted now he would never talk about it again, he's sure. snake is just a presence as lucas talks about ghosts smearing flowers over his empty bones and the grief which gnaws at his shadow.

he listens as lucas talks vaguely about an abandoned yoyo, and a field full of sunflowers. each remnants of a past he never got to experience, yet each so precious to him.

snake listens, and he wraps lucas up in a hug when all the words have left him.

they don't keep sunflowers anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @ goruluvs


End file.
